


Deadhead

by katjh



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Top Clint Barton
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-14
Updated: 2013-10-14
Packaged: 2017-12-29 10:28:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1004326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katjh/pseuds/katjh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An advantage of the bus is that sometimes they can give other SHIELD agents a lift.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deadhead

 "Shouldn't we be flying by now?" Skye asks, looking up from her phone. She's been expecting May to walk by and say curtly, "Wheels up in five" for almost an hour now.

"We're waiting for an agent on a different mission," says Ward. He's reading a paperback to pass the time, though there's a briefing file next to him as well. "He needs a lift and we're in the area, and Coulson thinks he can lend a hand on our next assignment."

"Oh." Skye looks back down at her phone and starts playing Temple Run. She's on her way to a new high score when she's interrupted by a thud as someone drops a duffel on the floor. She glances up to see a man in a black windbreaker standing in the middle of the plane.

"Agent Barton," Ward says, shock evident in his voice. "I didn't realize you were – "

"You weren't supposed to," Barton interrupts smoothly. He glances around. "Where's Coulson? Hill said he'd do the debrief."

Ward jumps up, his book falling to the floor, and picks up Barton's duffel. "I'll take you," he says. "We're out of bunks, but I don't – I mean, you can use mine, it's no trouble at all."

Barton rolls his shoulders slightly to adjust his backpack. "No need," he says, following Ward deeper into the plane. "I can sleep in the interrogation room, or in the back of the SUV. I've had worse."

Ward starts to protest, but he's cut off by Clint again. "No, Agent Ward. You're level seven now. I can pull seniority on you and that's it, and I don't plan to. You're on Coulson's team now. You get priority."

Ward stammers out, "But you're an _Avenger_ ," just as Coulson emerges from FitzSimmons's lab.

"Thank you, Agent Ward, but I'll take it from here," Coulson says. His voice is calm and smooth, his face carefully blank. Ward weakly offers to put Barton's duffel in his bunk, but relents when he gets matching stern looks from the agents.

"I'll tell May we're ready to leave," he mutters, and beats a hasty retreat.

Coulson smiles once Ward is gone. Clint just shakes his head and says, "God, Hill was right about that man's people skills."

"We're working on it. How was the mission?" Coulson asks casually.

Clint shrugs and gnaws on his lower lip. "Had better. If I hadn't been so determined to make it a success, I could've left with the rest of the team. They got burned halfway through. You're looking better."

"New PT regime," Coulson replies evenly. He straightens his tie. "Shall we put your things in interrogation?"

Clint leans down to pick up the duffel Ward had left on the floor. "Guess I can't leave 'em lying around," Clint says. He waves off Coulson's offer to carry the duffel, and follows him down, looking around the plane as they walk towards interrogation. "Fury really went all out on the renovation," he comments.

"Well, he does owe me." Coulson checks that and shakes his head, correcting himself, "He did. We blew a hole in the plane in about six days, so I think we might be even."

Clint laughs and leans against the wall as Coulson unlocks the door. Strike Team Delta had destroyed plenty of SHIELD property back in the day, but never that quickly.

"You'll get to meet the team properly later," Coulson says. "Do you want to debrief now?"

"Oh god yes," Clint says, and drops his things inside the room before pushing Coulson up against the door, slamming it shut, and kissing him breathless.

"Room's soundproofed," Coulson gasps out, reaching behind him with one hand to lock the door. Clint's hands are roaming over Coulson's body while Clint nibbles at Coulson's jaw.

"Good. I'm gonna fuck you 'til you scream." Clint's deft fingers undo the buttons of Coulson's shirt and tear it open. Coulson's wearing a tight tee underneath, something he's done since he was stabbed, and Clint leaves it on. He does remove his own shirt though, and throws it onto a chair. "Do you have lube?" he asks between kisses.

"I'm ready. Opened myself up as soon as I heard you'd be on board," Coulson says, tilting his head back and closing his eyes.

Clint bites down on the junction of Coulson's neck and shoulder and grinds against him. "Fuck, that's hot," he says. He reaches down and unbuckles Coulson's belt, then shoves his hand down the front of Coulson's pants. Phil is rapidly hardening and, yes, there's the slick feeling of lube at the back. Clint gives Phil's dick a few strokes to encourage things and then growls, "Sit on the table."

Phil hastens to take off his slacks, grabbing the extra lube from the pocket as he does, and sits on the table. The metal surface is cold on his skin, but Clint grabs his discarded tee and puts it underneath Phil. Phil spreads his legs, baring his hole with the fat plug in it, and hands the lube to Clint. Clint slicks himself up before gently removing the plug. He inserts a few fingers to make sure Phil can accommodate his girth before sliding in incrementally.

"Still as tight as when I first had you," Clint grunts. He's finally fully sheathed and he rocks his hips slightly. Phil wraps his legs around Clint's middle, pulling him closer.

"I missed you," Phil says quietly.

Clint laughs and begins to thrust slowly, setting up a rhythm. "Missed you too." He leans forward to kiss Phil. Clint licks into Phil's mouth and grasps the back of Phil's neck to deepen the kiss. Phil's lips part willingly. He practically melts under Clint's touch. His dick is painfully hard between them, leaking onto their stomachs. He reaches a hand down to rub at his cock desperately, needing friction.

Clint breaks the kiss to breathe and quickens his pace. His own hand wraps around Phil's cock and they stroke together, matching rhythms. Phil grunts as he comes, semen spurting all over Clint's bare stomach and their hands. Clint adjusts his angle and pistons his hips until he's coming as well, head slumping to rest on Phil's shoulder. He stays there while he catches his breath, just feeling Phil's pulse.

"We should secure ourselves for takeoff," Phil says at last. Clint slips out of him and presses one last, chaste kiss to his lips before pulling away. He hands Phil his pants and pulls up his own, and cleans them up with his t-shirt.

 

They manage to get seated just as the plane starts hurtling down the runway. Phil buttons up his shirt and clears his throat, putting on his professional demeanor, and says, "So, about that debriefing..."


End file.
